And then all the merry getting ready of the big dinner was going on, and the little pink calico gown had to have its back breadth smooth, so Mrs. Brown set a flat-iron on the stove, and got out the ironing-board.
“It’s jest ’xactly as if I had got a little girl,” she kept saying to herself with happy throbs of the heart.
And then, Phronsie had to stumble to the door as well as she could for Mrs. Brown’s big wrapper catching her feet, and put the little chicken out.
“I’m afraid he won’t find his way home,” she grieved.
“I’ll carry him back,” said Mrs. Pepper.
So Phronsie put the little yellow fluffy chick into Mamsie’s hand, and went into the big bedroom. And when she came back, the little pink calico gown all clean and smooth, and buttoned on by Mrs. Brown, why, there was Mamsie back again, and the old clock in the corner said as plain as a clock could say, “Time for dinner!”
And then after that big splendid dinner was over, and the ducks’ backs didn’t have any covering on to speak of, Farmer Brown took Davie off to see the “bossies,” and Phronsie crooned a little song of delight—for wasn’t she going to help Mrs. Brown and Mamsie to wipe the dishes?
And then she never could remember what was done next. For the first thing she knew, somebody was saying over her head—and that was Mrs. Brown, “It’s a pity to wake her!” And Phronsie rolled over on Mrs. Brown’s big bed and opened her blue eyes, and there was Mother Pepper,—and she said, “But we really must start for home now.”
And then the pink sunbonnet was tied on, and Davie came running up, his hands full of treasures that Farmer Brown had given him. And there was the old wagon with the big white horse waiting by the porch. And then she was lifted in and put on Mrs. Brown’s lap, a basket of goodies on the floor, and the farmer took up the old leather reins.
“Let ’er go, Bill,” he said.